by Willow Mason
“Isn’t your landlord Glynda?”
“Yes.” She shot me a deadpan expression, and I giggled. “Okay. Point taken.”
“But I’d love to dog sit if you ever need it. Or take him for a walk.” She held the chihuahua up in the air, playing aeroplane, then frowned. “Where did you say he came from?”
“I didn’t.”
She cradled the little dog against her chest, giving him a strange stare that I couldn’t interpret. “Porangi, is that you?”
If I’d thought the dog had been enthusiastic before, I soon learnt differently. He wriggled and squirmed with such energy Harriet couldn’t keep hold of him and the dog fell back onto the bed, barking and yapping as he chased his own tail.
“You know him, then?”
“He’s the secular Santa’s dog now, but he used to be Grace Jeddens’ familiar.”
“Grace? From the hardware store?”
Harriet nodded and reached out her hand to the dog, giggling when he licked between her fingers. “They had an accident a few years ago, and he got a nasty crack on the head. It turned him porangi—crazy—and she needed to rehouse him.”
“Needed to?” My mouth set in a stern line as I considered the truth of that statement. Grace Jeddens liked things how she liked them. I couldn’t imagine this bundle of unfocused energy fitting into her strait-laced life.
“I think her sons wanted to keep him, but Grace claimed she couldn’t bond with a new familiar when the old one was still hanging around. Luckily, someone suggested to Archie Balham he needed a home, and he was more than happy to help.”
“Archie? Is that Santa’s name?” I didn’t care about the answer as much as I wanted to forestall Harriet’s next question. Unfortunately, she saw straight through my routine.
“What’s happened to Archie?” she asked in a small voice, covering Porangi’s ears so he couldn’t overhear.
“He was found dead in his home. Been there a few days.”
“Oh, no! And so close to Christmas.” Harriet must have squeezed Porangi too hard because he wriggled backwards, out of her grasp. “I wonder if someone else can take over?”
“It’s too late to make gifts, even if they can find someone willing to take on the role each year.” My despondency returned, and I sat down heavily next to Porangi, giving him a pat. “Between him and Brianna going missing, it appears Christmas is cancelled.”
Harriet gave a smile, but it appeared forced. “Well, as I said, if you need a dog-sitter, let me know.”
“Actually, would you be able to take care of him tonight? Beezley and I have a stakeout.” That we probably should already be doing.
There was regret on Harriet’s face as she shook her head. “Sorry, no. Glynda has me running all over town collecting signatures for some vote she’s organising, and she’s stacked up the appointments till midnight. I can do it tomorrow though.”
“I’ll let you know. It depends on how it goes tonight.”
We said our goodbyes, and I stuffed a load of snacks into a duffel bag, ready for a long stint in the car. Despite Beezley’s concerns, when we pulled up six houses down from Lucinda’s address, she was at the front gate, tugging a circular out of the mailbox.
“We got lucky,” Beezley said, sounding almost disappointed.
I fiddled with the seat controls until I was lying back, only just able to see over the dashboard, with Porangi in my lap. “Do you want to share a bag of chips?”
Beezley blew out a breath. “We’ve only just got here. How about you save the food until later?”
“I wasn’t asking you.” I lifted up Porangi’s front paws and danced a few steps with them. “And I missed out on lunch.”
“Only because you insisted on chasing after a dog when you should’ve had your mind on your job.”
“Quit it with the lectures, will you? If you’re going to rant on at me the whole time, I’ll find another place to hide.”
Beezley grumbled under his breath but quickly settled while I took a closer look at Porangi’s head. A scar ran from the base of his skull up the centre of his head before nestling in behind his right ear. The hairs growing out from the tissue were sparse and wonky—poking in different directions rather than lying flat.
“What sort of accident caused this?” I asked him. “It looks like your head was split open.”
The chihuahua just grinned at me, his tongue lolling out more with each exhalation until he slurped it in, swallowed, and started the process again.
Familiars were usually tightly bonded to their witches, able to feel or intuit their emotions and desires as though they were extensions of their bodies. The same wasn’t true in return. When my own familiar died, the sorrow had cut so deeply into me I never sought another. That and the guilt from believing I’d contributed to his death.
But Grace Jeddens had just cast this cute fellow aside and got herself a cat instead. Maybe because her position in coven society made it a necessity. More likely because her heart was fashioned from stone.
“Even if you aren’t a familiar any longer, you seem like the kind of dog who’d make a good pet.”
Beezley laughed. “That wasn’t what you were saying about him the other day when he ruined your blouse.”
“I didn’t know him then.”
“You don’t know him now. He’s only been around for five minutes.”
“Don’t you listen to him,” I told Porangi in my best baby voice. “He’s just a grumpy old pooch with far too many responsible bones in his body.”
“Someone has to be that way.” Beezley jerked his head down, angling so he could see over the dash without exposing a hair above it. “Is that Lucinda on the move?”
It was. In the long shadows of late afternoon, Lucinda backed her car out of the garage, stopping on the road until the door rolled down. She drove to the first corner and turned right.
“The game’s afoot,” I told Porangi, settling him in the back seat before I followed Lucinda. Given the small population of Fernwood Gully, it was a balancing act between being an obvious tail—since not many other vehicles were on the road—or running the risk of lagging so far behind we’d lose her.
“You can drop farther back,” Beezley said with another cautious glance over the dash. “She’s headed for the highway.”
State Highway One ran along the coast of the South Island of New Zealand, connecting Fernwood Gully to all the other seaside towns. Once a person ventured as far up as Kaikoura, they were uniformly nice.
“What other covens operate along the coast?” Beezley asked me—a fine question but one I struggled to answer.
“Trevor said his mob of misfits are farther inland, so it rules them out.” Trevor was my black magic instructor, not that he imparted much wisdom to me. There were so few occasions where it was applicable for good, I often felt like I had no magic powers at all.
“Didn’t Delia mention another group?”
“The ones who tried to rob the Taniwha bones? Yeah.” I wriggled in the seat, trying to pull my phone out of my jeans and instead sending it flying into the footwell.
“Keep your eyes on the road!” Beezley yelled as I stretched my fingers out to snag it.
“Yeah, alright. There’s no need to yell.” I raised it level with the steering wheel and flicked through the contacts.
“No texting and driving!”
“Unless you want to take over one of those tasks, hold the judgement for a moment, will ya?” I gave a cry of success when my thumb hit upon Delia’s name in the list of contacts and shouted out a quick message, “Where’s the mermaid bone coven you were talking about?”
“Will she even understand that gibberish?”
“Okay, Boomer. Not everyone needs perfect grammar to understand a simple request.”
I would have expounded on my argument, but the windshield filled with blue light. I couldn’t keep my eyes open because of the glare and I would have slammed on the brakes, except I didn’t need to.
The car floa
ted a metre above the road. We weren’t going anywhere.
Chapter Seven
I tried to open my car door, but the light reacted like a thin, spongy substance. The door opened a crack but even using all my strength, I couldn’t move it farther.
“Get us down,” Beezley ordered in a panicked voice. He put his paws on the dash, staring into the light as if it would reveal its secrets if he just looked hard enough.
“Don’t worry.” I pointed to the road ahead where Lucinda was calmly striding towards us. “This appears to be friendly-ish fire.”
The elderly woman gave a jerk of her wrist and the car thumped down, suspension squeaking in protest. Porangi barked and ran from one side of the back seat to the other, working himself into a frenzy. I tried to grab hold, to comfort him, but he escaped my outstretched hand.
Lucinda rolled down all the windows, even as Beezley furiously jabbed his nose against the button on his side. “What’d you think you’re doing?”
“We’re following someone we have reason to believe knows the whereabouts of a lost mermaid.” In my head, the phrase had sounded confident and witty. Unfortunately, my shaking voice turned it into a chorus of frogs.
“You can turn around and go straight back home,” Lucinda said. “I don’t need anyone’s help.”
“I’d love to follow your orders but I’m working for Glynda and she won’t be impressed if we let you carry on alone.”
“Excuse me if I’m not worried about what impresses our supreme.”
“Think of your own neck, then.” I put my hands on the window frame, leaning out imploringly. “From what you said, there could be black magic practitioners where you’re headed. No matter how strong your magic is, against someone with those powers you’ll be helpless. Use me.”
Lucinda took a step back, folding her arms while her chin jutted upwards. Against Porangi’s barking, I could barely hear her say, “Okay, fine. But I’m going in first.”
“Be my guest,” Beezley said, relief coating his voice like honey. “And, if we’re taking two cars anyway, is there any chance I could switch to yours?”
Judging from the set of her shoulders as she walked away, the answer was a firm no.
My phone vibrated as Lucinda took off, her wheels squealing on the highway. A message from Delia. “The Briary, midway between Cheviot and Kaikoura.”
“At least if she tries to shake us off, we have somewhere else to check.” Not that it was likely. The highway went straight through with the only other route so far inland it would take five or six times longer.
“You could’ve just asked her back at Brianna’s house.”
Yeah, if I’d thought of it. “So could you.”
Sullen silence descended for the remainder of the journey, broken by an occasional spate of enthusiastic yaps from Porangi. The sky darkened, turned a riotous cacophony of reds, pinks, oranges, and yellows, then faded to dull blue-black.
The waves crashed on the shore on one side, brief flashes of sea spume dancing in the weak moonlight and the steep face of a mountain enclosed us on the other, making me feel free and claustrophobic at the same time. What would usually be green and comforting foliage turned grim and menacing in the dim light.
With my focus on the white stripes of the centre line, the rest of the world faded into the background. We could be heading into something dangerous. Probably were. Instead of easing into the long drive my muscles tightened, ready for fight or flight.
“She’s turning,” Beezley said, stating the obvious as I could easily pick out Lucinda’s flashing indicator on the road ahead.
I eased the car closer to her tail, fearful of her pulling a fast one now we were this close to our destination. Although the speed signs guided us to fifty kilometres an hour, the car showed ten, then fifteen below that.
“She’s looking for a specific address.” I matched my pace to hers, feeling the car crawl after such a long time on the open highway.
Porangi howled in the backseat, causing my flesh to break out in goosebumps. “Me, too, buddy,” I told him as I shifted down a gear.
Lucinda turned onto the main road, lit up with streetlights to ease the gloom. Shop windows were painted in reds and greens to match the season with fake snow dusted everywhere. It would be another six months before we got our chance at the real thing.
“Isn’t that her?” Beezley asked, practically crawling onto the dashboard in his eagerness to grab a better look. “Over by the department store.”
Brianna stood in the brightest spot on the street, her legs encased in sequined pants in a dark crimson that caught the lights as she turned, sending a thousand reflections beaming into the night.
“I guess she forgot how to dress her legs well,” Beezley said in mock-horror, making me giggle. “Everything about her outfit clashes.”
The car in front of me pulled to the side and Lucinda jumped out and ran to her daughter, leaving the engine running. I parked behind her, my stomach in knots as my mind picked over the scene.
It should have been exciting, happy, joyous. Instead, dread still coursed through my bloodstream and my skin turned clammy.
“She doesn’t appear to be kidnapped.”
Captain obvious was right. Nothing about this situation matched what I’d prepared myself for. Although that should have been a relief, it wasn’t. My nerves were tingling, screaming that something was off-kilter.
But I wouldn’t find out what by lurking in the car. “Let’s go see the happy reunion up close and personal,” I said, jumping out and watching in bemusement as Porangi sped past me, his little legs eating up the footpath.
When he reached the mermaid—although I could hardly call her that now—the chihuahua threw himself into the middle of the embrace, jumping up with his tongue sticking out, as though the pair were giant ice creams and he desperately wanted a lick.
“I guess their mother-daughter bond is stronger than I gave them credit for,” I whispered to Beezley as we walked closer. “Considering she didn’t appear to have ever visited her house.”
“Blood ties are always strong. You should have seen—”
“Bri!”
My head jerked up at the loud shout, confused and startled as Delia sprinted around a corner farther up the street and ran towards her friend. Her clear wings rustled from her speed. “Are they here yet?”
We drew level with the group, and I cleared my throat when Lucinda didn’t release her grip on her daughter. After another squeeze, the two separated.
“It’s a trap.” I backpedalled a few steps, but it was too late.
Another figure stepped out of the department store door, though the building must have shut hours ago. He smiled down the road at me, waving.
A man I recognised, though I didn’t know his name. He’d attempted to assault me at a witch’s house months ago, then placed a bag over my head in an empty hotel, preparing to do something terrible, though my magic ensured he never got the chance.
“Welcome,” he called out, spreading his arms wide.
Both Beezley and I tried to take another step back, the safety of the car only a few metres away, but our feet were frozen. Literally. I stared down at the great blocks of ice, wondering how to break free.
Even as I struggled to move, flinging my arms and hips around with desperate abandon, my eyes stayed fixed to the man. He stopped a foot away from me, wiping his thumb over his lower lip as though he’d just spied something delicious.
“Now here’s a bit of irony for you.” He reached out a finger, touching it to the tip of my nose.
I jerked away, then spat at him. The only reaction was a smile.
“Careful,” Beezley said in a low growl.
At first, I thought he was talking to the man, but his eyes were fixed on my hands. They glowed with crimson light. Black magic wanted to come to my rescue.
But I couldn’t let it free without knowing what damage it would cause. The last time I’d used it recklessly, spontaneously, an entire lodge had
fallen down around our ears.
“Back off,” I muttered, feeling the song of the spells quieten as if I’d turned down the volume on their speaker.
The man stood, watching everything with a smirking grin. “That’s right. Put your toys away. You don’t want to hurt the very people you’ve been trying to save.”
He gestured to Brianna, Delia, and Lucinda. The three of them stared back at him, not with fear but with gratitude.
They’d played on our help and led us straight into trouble. My magic surged again as I stared at the actors who’d fooled us into coming to this deadbeat town.
“As I was saying, irony. You thought you were rescuing someone who’d been kidnapped.” The man leaned in close, his breath warm and foetid against my cheek. “And all the time, they were helping me kidnap you.”
He blew a cloud of magic dust into my eyes and the entire world went dark.
Chapter Eight
A sliver of light was the first thing I focused on when the world came back. It ran along the wall, just a smidgeon below the ceiling, and had a pattern across it. After a few minutes of blinking and squinting until my vision came into focus, I realised the pattern was iron bars.
I sat up and my head throbbed as if someone had whacked it with a sledgehammer. With a tentative inspection, I didn’t think it was the case, but that didn’t make the pain recede one iota.
“Beezley?”
There was a small groan from a darkened corner, and I crawled towards it as fast as my pulsing headache would allow. During the three-metre journey, I had to stop twice as the pain caused me to gag.
“What happened to us?”
I squinted at the French bulldog, my eyes scanning his length for any signs of disability. He lay flat on his back, his right legs splayed to the side and his left poking straight into the air. If I’d caught him this way on another day, I would have taken a snap and posted it online.
My phone. I slipped a hand into my jeans pocket although I could already tell it was missing. As were the car keys. The spare twenty I always kept folded into my tiniest pocket was still there—for all the good it did us.
